


What I Do

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-02
Updated: 2001-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-10 10:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11124957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Kowalski's thoughts on his life.





	What I Do

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

What I Do

## What I Do

by Gina

Author's Website: http://jonesie.tvheaven.com

Disclaimer: due South and its characters do not belong to me, but I can dream, right?

Author's Notes: This is my first dS fic. Please be kind. :)

Story Notes: 

* * *

What I Do  
By Gina 

Undercover's my gig, you know? Need a player? You got me. That's how I work. That's who I am. Nobody, or anybody. Whichever you prefer. That's why I took the job at the 2-7. It was time for a change. I was ready. And, besides, it sounded like a great chance to lose myself for a while. 

Just cover for the cop turned fed, they said. Hell, I'd still be a cop, so that wasn't gonna be hard. I thought it was a bit strange when they said I was supposed to be Italian but, hey, they know what they were doing, so I went with it. Don't worry, I told my mum, I'll still eat paczki and pierogies whenever the opportunity came along. 

I settled into Vecchio's, I mean my desk with ease. Strange looks from the other detectives, I could handle. I was used to it. Hell, even when I wasn't undercover I got the stares and frowns. What's new? Welsh had warned me about my 'partner' and had said he'd take care of it. When he walked into the precinct, though, I was stunned. He moved with such authority, such tenacity, and I knew that my simple assignment had just gone up in flames. 

The Mountie, that is Frase, and I, got along great from the beginning. After his initial shock at the new situation, we settled into a rhythm, and worked together like we had known each other our whole lives. We began hanging out after work, too. First, because he and _his_ Ray used to do that. Then, because we had such a great time together. And now it's been almost two years. 

I told you, undercover is what I do, who I am. It allows me to keep some distance between the others. The one's that want to know the real Kowalski, the real Ray. I have to keep reminding myself that I can't show myself. I'm not real. The real Ray is living it up somewhere in Las Vegas. Except now I _am_ the real Ray. At least according to Fraser. 

I asked him about that a while back. We had been on a stakeout all day and into the evening. When our relief had finally gotten there, I suggested pizza and Big Red agreed. Returning to my apartment, we had gorged ourselves, the three of us including Dief, and Frase and I were sitting back on the sofa, trying to regain the energy to move. I looked over at the peaceful expression on his face and the thought that had been bugging me all day just flew from my mouth. I asked him what would happen to me when Ray Vecchio came back. 

He looked at me strangely, as if I had just spoken fluent Inuit or something. I remember laughing nervously, a deep sad laugh that I know didn't fool him. His eyes told me he knew better. That, and his frown. I wanted to crawl right inside the couch we were sitting on. I had allowed my fears and my weakness to show and I was going to pay for it. 

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and took a deep breath. Without looking at me he asked me what I thought would happen. Damned if I knew how to answer him. I mean I knew what I _wanted_ to happen, but it wouldn't. I _wanted_ him to stick with me; to be my friend. I _wanted_ him to get to know Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Not just the tiny glimpses that I let seep through the cracks every once in a while. I _wanted_ him to feel for me just a small amount of the feelings I held in my heart for Benton Fraser. 

My brain, fried that it may be, screamed a different story. It cried out for me to run, to hide all my feelings so that I wouldn't get hurt again. Yes, again. See? That's the thing. On the inside I'm a poet. Yeah, I know you've heard that before. But what you haven't heard are the tormented sonnets and epics of loves, and friendships lost. 

Oh, of course there was the monumental crash and burn that is called Stella. Everyone knows about her. It was the one huge part of my past that I couldn't hide during this stint as Vecchio. She wormed her way into this web of deceit much to my annoyance, and I was forced to allow the surrounding players to catch that glimpse of the real Ray. 

There were others. My best friend in high school, David. He died in a car crash the night before graduation. I wasn't in the car, but I wish I had been. Then there was my first partner on the street, Carla. Damned hyped up junkie shot her before she could even pull her own weapon. Even Mum and Dad left me for sunny Arizona. Stella was the only one that got me through those rough times, except for the folks. That time I was on my own. 

When Stella pulled away I had nothing, and no one. After pitying myself I bucked up and saw my life for what it was. Nobody I loved was ever going to stick around. Either they died, or they...just left me. So I had to take control. And the easiest way was to not let anyone in. And the easiest way to do that was to hide myself, even if that meant hiding me, from me. 

So, I go undercover. It's what I do. It is who I am. No harm, no foul. No hurt feelings, and no tears. 

But that night, in my apartment, on the couch, the tears showed themselves. I looked back at Fraser and saw his eyes glistening. He wasn't all-out crying, really, but I could tell I had hurt him deeply. I leaned forward on the couch, unconsciously mimicking his pose, and tried to speak, to tell him what I thought. 

I was going to lie to him and to tell him it didn't matter. That it was all a game, a play that we were acting out the past two years. I planned on telling him that I knew he would return to Vecchio and that I would go on to my next assignment. When I opened my mouth, though, all that came out was a gravely sort of grunt. I couldn't lie. 

I was clearing my throat again when he finally raised his eyes to meet mine. He told me he thought we would remain best friends, or possibly even more. And then he blushed, probably realizing that, while wearing the red uniform, he had just admitted something that was decidedly un-Mountie-like. He stammered and I even think I heard a muttered "Oh, dear," from between his lips, but I'm not sure. I was still reeling from his confession. 

My head was warring with my heart and I was stuck in the middle. I guess my silence must have felt like a refusal, to him. All I know is that the next thing I saw was Fraser standing and heading for the door. I knew enough not to let him leave and rushed after him, grabbing his arm and turning him to face me. His eyes tore through me and I knew, then, that I was truly lost. Such ended that night the friendship I had with Benton Fraser. 

Ben, as I call him now that we have become partners in the truest sense of the word, and I have been together for a couple of months now. Ben moved in with me a few weeks ago, and he's even got me writing in this damned journal, like he does. All the time he's catching more and more glimpses of the real Ray; the Ray Kowalski that I never meant to show anyone, ever again. 

That, I'm afraid, is why I have to do this. That is why I left this latest diary out for you to find, my dear Ben. I know you will find that you are at fault somehow, and will blame yourself for my leaving. It isn't you. I love you so much that it hurts inside. I don't know what I'd do if you left me, willing or unwilling. So I have to take back control. I have to lose myself again. 

I do undercover. It's what I do. It's who I am. 

Benton Fraser, Liaison for the Canadian Consulate, friend to Ray Vecchio, and lover to Ray Kowalski, his real Ray, closed the leather bound book and quietly wept. 

* * *

End


End file.
